The Tie That Binds

Wal-Mart Clerk: Hmmm, I’m not sure, maybe if you tell me what you’re using if for I could help more?

Me: It’s…uh…complicated.

Enter apartment #17. Two naked bodies lie on the bed of blankets on the living room floor, she is in his arms. He traces fingertips lazily across her body, changing her position every few minutes, exposing new skin to his touch. Her back arches, she purrs as his fingers graze her inner thighs, avoiding the growing warmth in the center. His dry humping against her leg has left it slick and glistening as she rubs back against him…his touch becoming more and more insistent. It soon became too much. They stand up, walking into the bedroom as he grabs the rope he had purchased earlier that week. Sprawled out on the bed she looks at him, eyes full of lust.

Each limb corresponds to a steel leg on the bed frame, left arm first. Rope winds tightly around her wrist connecting her to the frame: no give, no shelter and no control. She rubs away with the right hand as he secures the legs, rope wound tightly around her ankles. He takes her wrist into his mechanical grip and rips it away from her pussy, plunging it onto the bed, quickly strangling it with his restraints. He stops and looks at the sight before him.

Complete control.

He kisses and licks his way across the lines of her body, paying the utmost attention to her minute details. She arches up but is quickly pushed back down under his weight. His lips leave trails of wetness across her thighs as he draws nearer and nearer, only to pull away at the last moment. Hands trace her body; he grinds himself against her leg, staring at the look on her face. Mouth open. Eyes Closed. Head back. Wetness meets wetness…sound emits, pulse quickens, fingers curl, pupils dilate, toes spread, and nipples harden, dripping and slurping. Rising up her length slowly he takes time to drip his mess onto her before sliding inside. Her chest rises to meet him, but he pulls away as she struggles against the tension from her binds.

“I am in control now, do you trust me?”

Her eyes were the answer and her words torment him, egging him on. He leaves her, standing up and walking back into the kitchen. Eyes fix on the cutting block. “Too big, too small…uh that one’s dirty…ah…perfect.” Holding the metal firmly against his chest he checked the sharpness, again perfect. She stares at him as he walks back into the bedroom, the knife out of sight as he climbs on top of her. Their eyes are locked such that she does not notice the blade as it comes into view, her lips part when she finally does.

“I’ll ask you again, do you trust me?”

The blade meets her skin a few inches above her left breast, slowly making its way down her chest. She does not move, knowing the imminent danger and her inability to fight him off. The sight of the metal both frightens and excites her, his touch reassures but reasserts. The control is his. He moves his body lower, bringing the knife to rest just above her clit. The cold metal meets her outer lips, she gasps but does not budge, and he trails it out down her hip. The pattern repeats and mutates, each inch of skin covered producing new taboo sensations traveling in its wake.

He mounts her, placing the knife on the bed as he slides himself into her. He knows what she wants but is hesitant, wondering if she really understands what she is asking…the danger. He puts her trust to the test. The blade comes to rest on her throat as the pace of his thrusting increases. She does not breathe and he does not press down, it is there as a mere reminder. It is equilibrium between the two of them, an unspoken testament to his power over her. He lifts, she breathes. The excitement in her eyes is an echo of the animal in his; she sees what she has drawn out of him. He does not recognize himself in this moment, but he carries on. His full realization comes as he pulls the knife away for the final time, looking down at her face. He wakes up, realizing for the first time that he wants this just as much as she does. His eyes open, he draws a breath and grabs a handful of her hair.

I pulled back hard and saw the obvious pain on her face as her neck craned upwards. I thought about what I was doing, “Sick fuck,” but it only pressed me on further. I think she saw the conflict in my eyes because she began to curse me, I pulled her hair harder. She demeaned me; I bit down into her flesh. She spit, I pushed her head into the mattress. The insults flew back and forth; I fucked her harder with each word from her mouth. It turned to a struggle as she fought against her binds, I could see the rope sawing into her skin. Harder and harder, I pulled back on her hair and licked her neck, “I don’t want it,” she said. “Get off of me, you're pathetic.” Egging me on and on, I knew she liked it…I told her she did. Her flat refusal brought it on even more.

“I don’t care if it feels good for you, it does for me.”

I saw the fire in her eyes when I said that, she told me I was raping her, I told her she liked it. Two sick demented fucks picking at the back corners of two twisted brains, pulling it out of each other. The fight continued, she was successful in getting my cock out of her a few times, only to be beaten back under my weight to feel me in her once again. I fucked her mercilessly, ripping back on her hair and telling her it was for me. She began to break, slowly but surely.

“Baby, please make love to me.”

I pulled her hair back and growled my response in her ear, doubling my efforts. She begged and begged but I did not bend to her will. Every plea for mercy was greeted with a snarl and a yank of her hair. I was pounding into her relentlessly, the sweat coating our bodies, as she wailed a mix of pleasure and pain into the damp air. It pushed me over the edge; I felt it start growing in my legs. It pushed up to my ass as we slapped together, the bed banging against the wall. The sweat dripped down my forehead as I pulled out, releasing myself onto her arched body…begging for my cum. I took her head in my hands and kissed her, looking into her brown eyes.

“That was fucking unbelievable,” was all either could muster.

“I need a cigarette.”

We laughed and I climbed off of her, she begged me to cut her free. I grabbed a different knife and cut her arm free before handing it to her. "Do it yourself," I said. Instead she lustfully rubbed my cum into her chest and face before tending to her binds. There were deep red rope marks on her wrists and ankles, I took pictures and kissed her wounds. I held her for a few minutes before we got dressed and went outside to smoke.

“I didn’t realize how badly I wanted that,” I said.

“I do trust you with my life,” she responded.

“This I know. I would never hurt you.”

“I know that as well, I love you.”

“I love you…oh and just so you know…that knife was so dull it couldn’t cut butter.”